


My Type

by loki_098



Category: Bloodsucking Bastards (2015)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Dirty Talk, F/M, Light BDSM, Vampire Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:42:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23029522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loki_098/pseuds/loki_098
Summary: You're a ladder-climbing employee who's got a sharp tongue with her coworkers, and your boss wants to discuss your conduct.
Relationships: Max Phillips/Reader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 70





	My Type

You’d been dreading this meeting all week. The product itself, a line of vitamins and supplements, wasn’t terribly demanding to write ad copy for, but you’d had to create your own spreadsheet to track the client’s sales data. It wasn’t in your job description, and the work had been assigned to another member of your sales team, but you knew from past experience that it’d be a cold day in Hell before Thomas actually did his own work, and it’d be colder still before you let someone else’s inadequacies hurt the quality of your own work. You had your eye on a promotion before the end of the year, and damned if you wouldn’t put in the extra effort to make it happen. 

By the time you and the rest of your team had settled into your seats around the table, you could already tell that you were one of the only people who’d shown up even remotely prepared. Some of these new hires hadn’t yet learned what was expected of them, and you couldn’t really hold that against them, but Thomas was far from the only person you worked with who was really only showing up for the paycheck. It wouldn’t have been so frustrating if it didn’t mean so much extra work for you; you didn’t mind looking like the star of the team, but you’d had to sacrifice a lot of personal time to get your proposals done on time in addition to all the extra prep work you’d done first. The sales manager--you hadn’t learned her name yet, but if Max Phillips had tapped her as his replacement after his promotion, you knew her work would be impeccable--opened the meeting with a brief summation of the client’s needs, the type of ads they wanted to run, their target audience. She spoke well, even if there was something a little...dead, honestly, about the way she spoke, but she was all business, something you could definitely appreciate. “And,” she turned to you as she came to the point, “I believe you were given the first crack at proposals?”

You stood, your best I-am-very-professional smile on your face. It was a mask you’d perfected, because giving your coworkers a death glare wasn’t the way to get ahead. “That’s correct. However, I believe we’d need to review the hard data on our client’s sales for the last quarter; Thomas, I think that spreadsheet’s one of yours, isn’t it?” Just as you knew he would, the portly man gave you his best impression of a fish dying on land, mouth agape and eyes goggling at you. “I’m sorry, Thomas, is something the matter? You _do_ have the sales figures from last quarter, don’t you?”

Sheepishly, he stammered out something that could only be called an explanation if you were feeling exceptionally forgiving--and you had long, long since run out of patience for slackers. “I, I uh...yes, those were, um...yes, that’s one of my sheets. And--and it’s not exactly, uh, _ready_ , but it’s...not...not-ready?”

You felt your eyes narrow, even if your blandly pleasant smile never wavered. “I see. Then I suppose it’s for the best that I went ahead and collected that data--it isn’t exactly my responsibility to do so, but we all know the value of preparedness, don’t we?” The new sales manager, for the first time since you’d seen her at the office, looked not just interested but intrigued, and you allowed yourself to hope for a moment that she was taking note of your willingness to get the job done, even at your own expense. “Honestly, Thomas,” you said, your tone a very parental brand of disappointment, “if one spreadsheet is beyond your ability to manage, do us all the courtesy of updating your resume and turning in a letter of resignation. I don’t see why we need to pay someone to be in your position if someone else is going to have to do all your work.” Okay, that was a bit much, but your manager hadn’t stopped you, and you knew you weren’t the only person who was frustrated by this sort of thing. As smoothly as if you’d rehearsed it that way (because you had), you gave a brief overview of the statistics and figures you’d taken the time to enter into your own spreadsheet, and then moved on to your proposals, in what turned out to be the smoothest presentation you’d given in your time at the company.

Later that afternoon, you were back at your desk making some edits to the ad copy you’d proposed at the meeting. Your sales manager, whose name you’d learned was Marilyn, had surprised you with some insightful feedback. Never one to overlook the potential of having your direct superior feel personally invested in your work, you were keen to make sure she knew you were taking her suggestions to heart--you never knew, her recommendation could make the difference in being selected for promotion someday. You were so focused on your work that when Marilyn herself tapped on your desk, you started, sucking in a breath, and for a moment, you could swear she looked...satisfied? “Max wants to speak with you,” she said. “In his office, right away.”

Interesting. “No problem, Marilyn. Did he mention what this was about?”

“Not to me.” She smiled, though the expression didn’t reach her eyes. “I didn’t ask. All he said was that he wanted you in his office at once.”

You quickly saved your work and locked your computer as she went on her way. Why would your boss’s boss want to talk to you privately? Much as you hated to admit it, it couldn’t be regarding any kind of promotion, no positions had opened up in months. Surely you weren’t being chastised for getting the work of two people done at once? No, definitely not--Marilyn would have said something to you, you were certain. Nothing for it, you decided, but to just get it over with. You took a moment to make sure your lipstick wasn’t smudged and that your skirt and blouse didn’t have any unsightly wrinkles, then straightened your spine and made your way to the back of the building, where Max’s office was. 

The door was closed, and you weren’t raised in a barn, so you knocked, a quick one-two-three that was audible without being demanding. A moment passed, then another; you could hear a male voice inside, muffled by the closed door, and assumed that he must be taking a phone call. It wasn’t long before you heard the telltale _clunk_ of a handset being replaced, and not a moment after that, Max opened the door, his usual chipper smile on his face. “Hey,” he said, “come on in.” You weren’t sure whether to be concerned that he closed the door behind you. Not a lot of conversations with management were considered mandatorily private, but the few that were...you didn’t need to be nervous, you reminded yourself. You’d done nothing worse than snap a little at a known slacker whose lack of work ethic was bringing down your whole team. Max gestured at the chairs in front of his desk. “Please, have a seat. Did Marilyn mention why I wanted to see you?”

You smooth your skirt down beneath you as you sit, in a motion so practiced you don’t even really think about it anymore. “No, sir. She only said I was to speak with you right away.”

“I see.” He didn’t return to his own seat, instead standing beside his desk. It meant you had to look up to look him in the eye, and that he was closer than you’d expected. Whatever his aftershave was, it smelled amazing, and _wow_ , that wasn’t the sort of thing you needed to be thinking about right now. “I understand you took the lead in the New Life meeting this morning--Marilyn had some really encouraging things to say about your work.” 

Well, that was definitely better news than you’d started to fear you were getting from this one-on-one. “I don’t believe in leaving a job half done, sir. It’s what anyone would do, in my position.” There was an art to sounding modest without being self-effacing, and it was an art you’d spent years perfecting. “If you have questions about my proposals, I’d be happy to go over them with you.”

“I appreciate your enthusiasm,” he smiled. “But that’s not why we’re here.” His voice took a more serious turn, one you’d only ever heard him use for bad news. Shit. “Marilyn also let me know that one of your coworkers plans to file a formal complaint with Human Resources. Something about being spoken to in an unprofessional way at that meeting. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

Shit, shit, and double shit. You were going to get Thomas for this no matter what it took. “I...may have been a little harsh, sir, with one of my teammates. It was unbecoming of me and if he’d like an apology, I would, of course, be happy to provide him with one.”

Max folded his arms over his chest, a thoughtful look on his face. “Between you and me, what exactly happened?” You felt your heart leap with hope--maybe you weren’t in here for a reprimand after all. 

“Well,” you began, your mind racing to find the best way to frame the events of the day to your advantage, “you know that the New Life account has had some fairly wide variance in terms of sales and overhead--it’s not uncommon for health and beauty products to see a surge in sales after the new year, but it still needs to be taken into account when planning new advertisements.” He nodded, and you could tell that unlike some of your previous bosses, he was not only listening but actually knew what you were talking about, rather than just nodding so you’d know he was paying attention. “At our last weekly meeting, one of my coworkers, whose job description includes maintenance of sales data for a few accounts, was asked to forward some of his work to me, specifically a spreadsheet detailing sales and accounting for New Life last quarter. This coworker...how can I put this delicately,” you paused. It was important not to just bad-mouth another employee to your boss, but you knew you needed to get this point across, if you wanted to avoid an HR inquiry. “It’s not uncommon for his idea of which work takes priority to differ wildly from what’s agreed upon in team meetings,” you finally said. “Today wasn’t the first time I’ve had to double back and cover his work before I could start on my own, and, if I’m being completely frank, sir, it does get old. I shouldn’t have said as much in the meeting, but...all I can really say is that I’m human, and that it won’t happen again.”

Max let you sit and stew in silence for a long moment. You couldn’t help that you felt your cheeks heating up, but you hoped that, if he noticed, he’d take it as a sign that you were genuinely contrite, rather than what it was--you were, as you said, only human, and you couldn’t help your reaction to sitting this close to a man who, if you were being honest, was unreasonably attractive and smelled really good, and who had fixed a surprisingly intense stare onto you like he was dissecting you with his eyes. “Hmm.” He leaned forward just a little, not enough to bend double but more than enough to push further into your personal space than he already was. “I’m sorry, I was unclear. I want to know exactly what was said. Word for word, if you can recall it.”

You blinked. That was...unusual. Not much could rattle your professional mask. Looking up at him, you raised an eyebrow. “Sir?”

His mouth curled up into a smile, but it wasn’t the aggressively cheerful one he usually wore. This was a more personal expression--an actual emotional response, you thought, rather than a persona that was as manufactured as your own pleasant but impersonal attitude at the office. “Did I stutter?”

“I...believe I told him that if managing one spreadsheet was beyond his ability,” you all but whispered, terrified you were signing your own termination with the admission, “that he should do everyone a favor and resign.”

“Was that all?”

If you’d known how much hot water this stunt was going to land you in, you thought, you’d have kept your mouth shut. “No, sir. I also...I also told him that I didn’t see why the company needed to pay him, if I was going to have to do all his work anyway.” The first flutters of real anxiety tickled at your stomach, and you looked down at your hands, folded on your lap. “As I said, I recognize that this wasn’t a professional way to speak to one of my coworkers, and it won’t happen again, sir. You have my word.”

“Well, that would be a shame.” Your head snapped up, looking him in the eye again. The expression on Max’s face could only be described as _hungry_ , and if you thought your face was hot before, it didn’t begin to compare to what you felt now. Surely, you thought, you had to be reading too much into his body language. “According to Marilyn, you only said what half your team was thinking, and honestly, I’m only mad that I wasn’t there to see it.” You had to be dreaming, you thought. You’d fallen asleep at your desk and you were having a really, bizarrely hot dream about work, because that was the only way you could explain feeling his hand gripping your chin to tilt your head up towards him a little more, so that he could see your entire face. “Because I’d bet it was...captivating,” he murmured. A little more pressure on the bottom of your jaw, and you were compelled to stand. “I _do_ like a woman who knows what she wants.” You could feel your heart racing so fast you wouldn’t be surprised if it came flying out of your chest any minute. “Do you know what you want?”

You weren’t likely to get a better ladder-climbing opportunity, you rationalized. And if you were just dreaming...what the hell. It wasn’t like you’d never daydreamed about it. About him. You nodded, slowly, feeling your lips part just a little in anticipation. “Yes, sir,” you whispered, and then, high on your own adrenaline, you leaned into him and pressed your mouth to his. From the way he growled, at once licking into your mouth, this was pretty much exactly what he’d expected, but still, it was beyond gratifying to realize you weren’t the only one who’d been fantasizing. 

“You want a promotion?” He broke away from your lips to snarl in your ear, one arm curling possessively around your waist. “I think you’ve got--mm--long-term potential with the company.” Tilting his head down until his lips grazed your neck, he nipped here and there at the soft skin just below your jaw. “Is that why you’re doing this? Climbing all over your boss when anybody could walk in and see it?”

“Sir,” you panted, “I’m in your office because you called me here. If you wanted to do this somewhere else,” you laugh, “all you had to do was ask.” Your laughter turned to a gasp as you felt his teeth--his unusually sharp teeth--finding purchase in the flesh of your neck again, though a lot more firmly than they had before. “Shit,” you hissed, “you’re going to leave a mark--”

Without removing his mouth from your throat, you felt him groan an incoherent _mhmm_ out against you, before what felt like four freezing-burning needles pricked into your skin. Before you could complain that it hurt, the sensation blossomed into a bliss so exquisite that you sagged against him. You could feel, as if from a vast distance, Max’s mouth sucking at your neck. It wasn’t quite the same as feeling a man leave a hickey; you knew very well what that felt like, but this was...different. Deeper. Somewhere in the haze that you were floating in, you remembered one of the temps bringing up some crackpot theory that the office was being run by vampires, and honestly, if you had it in you to move right now, you’d be giggling about it, because who in their right mind would have believed _that_? Vampires, of all things, honestly? But when Max leaned back, examining his handiwork with a bloody smile, all you could think was that whoever that temp was, they were brighter than they were given credit for. 

Some part of you--a shrinking part--was still rational enough to think you should probably try and run. Surely, now that you’d seen what he was, Max wasn’t going to let you live, and yet...you couldn’t bring yourself to object, even as you watched him clean your blood off of his mouth with a finger, then lick it up as if the very notion of wasting any of it was simply unacceptable. “It’s an unusual kind of promotion,” he said, and there was an oddly musical quality to his voice that hadn’t been there before. “But I just _know_ you’re the right choice.” Still gripped by whatever strange lassitude had come over you when his fangs broke your skin, you couldn’t help but shudder. Something about his praise, or the way he sounded when he gave it, shot lightning right down through you to your clit, and from the exceedingly satisfied look on his face, it wasn’t exactly a subtle reaction. “And I think you’ll like the training process. I think you’ll like it a _lot_.”

Still as pliant as a doll, you were almost surprised to feel yourself moving. Max gestured, as if he was pulling a string, and you slid to one side until rather than pressing yourself up against him, you were relaxing against his desk, your palms planted on its surface. He turned, taking a step and settling himself at your back, already at least half-hard where he rested his hips against the curve of your ass. You had so many questions, but only one made it up to where your voice seemed to be caught in your throat. “Will...will it hurt?” You didn’t even sound like yourself, instead strung out on pleasure and more tentative than you’d ever let yourself come across in the office before.

You felt him grip your hair, still gathered into a neat, professional bun, and use it to pull your head to one side. “Only if I want it to,” he laughed. “Is that what you want?” He leaned forward, both bringing his mouth to the other side of your neck and pressing his erection more firmly against you. “A little pain? You’re quick enough to be harsh with your peers...is that what you like?” You tried to speak, but the only thing that came out of you was a ragged sigh--one which turned almost at once to a sharp gasp, as Max’s other hand gripped the front of your throat with enough force to cut off your air. “I asked you a question,” he said, his light, sing-song tone completely at odds with the way he was handling your body. “I expect an answer.”

You nodded, as much as you could considering the way he was gripping your head from behind and your throat from the front, and just like that, the grip on your throat relaxed. “Yes,” you whined.

“Yes, _what_?”

Another shudder shakes you from head to toe. “Yes, sir,” you said. “I...that’s what I like.”

You couldn’t hear him laugh, but you felt the way his stomach flexed against your back. “What’s what you like, hmm?”

Was he really going to make you say it? “I like...sir, I like it...rough. I like it to hurt a little.” God, if you hadn’t been wet before, having that admission wrung out of you would have done it. You squirmed a little in his grip, and you could feel him throb in his pants at the sensation--it’s gratifying to know that even if he was some kind of undead monster, he was definitely still a man.

“Well, if that’s what you like, sweetheart, then that’s what I want to give you.” Without further preamble, he jerked your head to the side and sank his teeth into you again. It wasn’t quite as dizzying the second time, and as he promised, it did hurt. But under and around the pain there was still some of that same unearthly pleasure, enough that if he wasn’t holding you up, you wouldn’t have been able to stay upright on your own, especially when you started to tremble. Again, you felt him sucking at your neck, though it didn’t feel like he was doing much of that with his teeth; this time, when he pulled away, he took one of his arms with him. Almost at once, though, he brought it back, pressing his wrist to your mouth. It was coated in something that smelled like pennies--blood, you realized--but you didn’t think it was your own. “Open your mouth,” he growled against your ear. “Open up that pretty mouth.” 

You were only too eager to do whatever he told you to do, if he was going to tell you in that tone of voice--and when you licked at the neat little incision in the meat of his forearm, the taste was indescribable. Sure, you’d tasted your own blood before--who hasn’t stuck a papercut in their mouth?--but that was nothing compared to the liquid fire you tasted on his skin. It was power, your dazed mind suggested. Liquid power. And you were always after power--why else would you be so dead-set on climbing the corporate ladder? You sucked at his arm just as urgently as he’d done to your neck, and with the first swallow, you could already feel something powerful stirring in your body. Not powerful in the way of sex, although there was definitely some of that need in the way you felt your hips pressing back against Max, but powerful in the sense that you could feel yourself becoming something more than human. Too soon, he pried your mouth away from his arm.

“Not too much, now--I appreciate your _enthusiasm,_ ” he said, grinding forward against where you’d let yourself relax down to lay over his desk. “But before I let you get back to your desk, I have _got_ to have you over mine for a while.”

Your body felt like it was on fire, in the best possible way--you hadn’t dated in a while, and surely that was part of it, but still, the strength of the raw, aching _need_ that swept over you was something you were totally unprepared for, and you knew at once it would forever be associated with the coppery taste of Max’s blood in your mouth. You didn’t have it in you to reply to him with words, even if you could feel your mouth and tongue beyond the burning, tingling sensation that was currently flooding you, but you were more than able to get your hands down to the hem of your smart little skirt, and you wasted no time at all in getting it folded up over itself until your underwear was on display, even if the thong that went with a skirt this tight was small enough that it barely qualified as underwear. 

You felt more than heard it when Max reached down to undo his belt and then his fly. “God,” he laughed, “you’re really _that_ ready to get bent over your boss’s desk?” The same hand that unzipped his pants pulled your underwear aside, then sank two fingers into your wet slit without any real warning. You moaned into the surface of his desk, and he laughed again, apparently more than a little amused by how quickly you’d surrendered to him. “Unless you want this entire floor to hear what I’m doing to you,” he said, taking both his hands off you, “you’re gonna have to be quiet.” You weren’t sure what he was doing, until he picked your head up by the hair again, his other hand coming around into your view holding his tie. “Open up,” he said, and when you did, he wedged the material in between your teeth. Rather than tie it, he gripped both ends in one hand at the back of your head, and once you relaxed into that restraint, his other hand went back to work. 

Satisfied that you were wet enough for his purposes, he bit back a groan as he lined his cock up with your lips and thrust into your pussy until you felt the patch of hair at the base of him against the skin of your ass. He paused there, but not for long; once he was sure of his angle, he pulled back and thrust again, and again, until he’d set a rhythm that was just right to make your eyes roll back into your head. It wasn’t fast, but it was _hard_ , like he was aiming to make your teeth rattle every time he bottomed out inside you, and each time that he slid into your welcoming heat, his grip on the tie he’d used to gag you pulled your head back towards him. You’d always prided yourself on being a quick learner, so it was no time at all before he didn’t have to jerk you back against him--you were happy to brace your hands against his desk and rock your ass back to meet his thrusts. 

“You know,” Max panted, “you’re _just_ my type, you _vicious--little--bitch._ ” He punctuated those three words with three particularly rough strokes, and between that and hearing something so degrading spoken in a tone of glowing praise, you felt the walls of your cunt flutter, the words alone almost enough to tip you over the edge. “And the kicker is-- _shit_ \--I can tell you like it when I say that. Don’t you?” All at once, he yanked on his tie, pulling your body up off his desk until you were pressed back against him, until he could snarl right into your ear. “I _said,_ you like it when I call you a vicious. Little. _Bitch._ Don’t you?”

You sobbed out a _yes_ as best you could around the improvised gag, too caught up in the twin ecstasies of the way your boss was railing you and the delicious ache of your own eyeteeth getting sharper against your lips to care that you were making an absolute spectacle of yourself for him. The only thing on your mind was the way you felt, and you felt _good._

“That’s what I thought,” he hissed, and reached down past your skirt, now more like a wide belt, to get his hand into the front of your underwear. “You wanna get off, huh?” You nodded again, frantic with need. “If I do it, from now on it’s only me,” he said, still rutting up into you and absolutely wrecking you with how good the change in angle felt. “You wanna come, you come see me. You don’t do it yourself, you don’t get anyone else to do it, you come to me. You and I,” he huffed out against your hair, “are gonna rule this city from right here, aren’t we?”

You’d have said anything to get him to get you off, but it was an honest answer when you finally worked your mouth back from the tie enough to whimper out a reply. “God, _yes_ , Max, please--please, I need you--” You didn’t have to get any further, as he finally relented, pressing his fingers into your vulva until he found your clit and working it in circles until, with a gasp of his name, your entire body locked down around him in orgasm. 

The sound he made when he felt you come was barely human--it was an animal sound, from a man who’d been reduced to a beast by your body, and as quickly as that, you felt the telltale pulsating of his cock that meant he was coming inside you. You lolled back against him, your head resting on his shoulder, mostly because you weren’t sure you could stand on your own yet, but you were pleasantly surprised to feel one of his arms wrap around your waist as he’d done earlier, and while it was still a possessive gesture, it wasn’t without affection. The two of you stayed that way for a few minutes, catching your breath, and it gave you a moment to realize you really could hear and smell more than you could just a few minutes ago. Your mind felt clearer, certainly--where before your primary goal had been promotion, mostly for the increase in pay and improvement in benefits, you could feel now some alien, animal hunger for power that you knew you wouldn’t be able to sate with just one step up the chain of command. 

Lazily, you turned your head to one side, the tie falling out of your mouth entirely, and took a chance, pressing your lips to Max’s temple. “If it’s not too bold,” you murmured, “same time tomorrow?”

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so it was a song title, but only barely. If you wanna hear the song, it's [ this. ](https://open.spotify.com/track/2Iq6HhIquO7JKr0KfTNLzU?si=PW5zOLa0SbajXZYT2j30XA)


End file.
